


Party Games

by This_is_it



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Flirting, Games, Hand Jobs, M/M, One Shot, PWP, Public Sex, Semi-Public Sex, Sexual Content, Sexual Frustration, Teasing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-02
Updated: 2019-11-02
Packaged: 2021-01-20 16:24:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,019
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21284669
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/This_is_it/pseuds/This_is_it
Summary: Hannibal plays a game with Will at yet another fancy dinner party.
Relationships: Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter
Comments: 5
Kudos: 82





	Party Games

Will wouldn’t say he was _seething_, but he was definitely somewhere in the wildly frustrated range. His cock, still glistening with Hannibal’s spit, ached in his lap, exposed to the warm bedroom air, which seconds ago was filled with the filthy sounds of Hannibal pleasuring him. The doctor had just been performing admirably, pulling him exponentially closer to that desperate edge, until he pulled off without warning, leaned back on his heels, and said that was enough for now. Time to start getting ready, guests should be arriving any minute. You’re not wearing that, are you?

And then he left without further explanation, leaving Will painfully hard, flabbergasted. He tried to finish with just his hand, but both he and Hannibal knew of his new-found dilemma. It appeared that when he’d had the best at his beck and call, it was harder and harder to get himself off alone. It was maddening, the amount of times Will settled into bed when Hannibal couldn’t be there, or in the showers in the morning when Hannibal had already left for work, and not been able to reach orgasm. It was like there was a blockage, and the complete absence of Hannibal’s mouth, soft hands, or hard length to press against and taste and take made the whole activity rather pointless.

Will gave up with a frustrated grunt, annoyed at his own dearth of imagination. This couldn’t be happening, not tonight. They still had an entire dinner party to host, and then the fucking opera to sit through. Will was already dreading them both, not looking forward to an evening of stuffy conversation and boring performances. Of course, he could recognize the talent of the performers, but since they began seeing each other publicly, Hannibal had dragged him to one too many shows and the shine was wearing off. He didn’t understand the language most of the time anyway, and by the second act he was always itching to get out of there. His only consolation was how amped up Hannibal got for the wretched performances, and often afterwards would ravage him with more gusto then normal. How the man was able to be turned on by screeching women and pouting, bearded men was beyond Will, but he wasn’t complaining.

He was complaining however, about his now half-masked member, heartlessly abandoned for little known reason. What was Hannibal scheming? Will tucked himself into his jeans with a huff, resolved to not play into whatever game Hannibal had planned for them tonight. He pulled himself off the great bed, shuffling into Hannibal’s closet for the small corner filled with fine clothes the doctor had purchased for him for nights like these.

As he dressed he thought of who was to be in attendance for the event that evening. Jack wouldn’t be there, thank God. He was most likely still in his office, pouring over the fresh photos from the crime scene they had visited that morning. Alana and Margot sent their apologies as well, meaning Will would be alone in a crowd of strangers. It was just as well, for whatever Hannibal had planned, a familiar face in the crowd might spoil it.

Dressed in a crisp dark suit, hair slicked back and new cologne wafting off his shoulders (another unnecessary gift from Hannibal), Will made his way down the enormous staircase, into the bustling kitchen. Waitstaff moved around, barking orders at each other and rushing to get everything in place for the evening. The stove was covered in steaming pans, all the ovens full and giving off a warm, baked smell. Hannibal stood in the middle of the chaos, sleeves rolled up, patiently brushing a glaze over an ornate piece of meat.

“Will, how nice of you to join us. Whatever took you so long?” Hannibal greeted, not looking up but smiling something secret. 

Will glowered back at him, not dignifying the taunt with a response. Instead he made a beeline for the rolling bar cart, pouring himself a whiskey.

Guests started trickling in soon after, each one dressed to the nines, chatting about how excited they were for tonight’s festivities. Not many ventured to talk to Will besides greetings, and Will was totally fine with that. He liked taking the back seat at these events, letting Hannibal fluff his feathers and glide between the guests.

At one-point Hannibal caught his eye from across the room, winking with a slight lick to his lips, knowing Will was focused on his mouth. The sight dropped to Will’s lap, and he imagined mauling Hannibal right there, in front of all his well-dressed guests. Their surprise would only add to Will’s excitement, their eyes on the two of them grabbing at hardening lengths, gasping into each other’s mouths. Will would already have Hannibal on his knees, already be sliding in—

“Will, how nice to see you!” Dr. Chilton greeted, arriving to stand beside Will. He held a half empty wine glass in his hand and looked nonchalantly over the crowd.

“Hello Fredrick,” Will greeted, slightly annoyed to have his attention pulled from Hannibal’s mouth and his run-away day dream. But then again, a glance back to the older man told Will Hannibal was equally annoyed at the interruption. Interesting.

Will smiled something small, knowing even though Hannibal turned his attention back to the tall dark-haired woman he was speaking to, the man’s focus was entirely on Will.

“Are you looking forward to the show?” Chilton asked, mistaking the smile for his own.

Will turned to look at him, reading the nervousness and barely concealed attraction there.

“I am,” he said slowly, stepping a touch closer. If Hannibal wanted to play a game, then Will did too.

He raised a hand to Chilton’s shoulder. “I have to say, you look stunning tonight, doctor.” He cooed, adopting the same persona as many of the guests when talking with Hannibal. Cold and openly flirtatious.

Will could sense the touch alone bristled something in Hannibal as he watched from across the room, socially bound to remain in conversation with someone he could care less about.

Chilton flustered, adjusting his tie and jacket buttons.

“My, Will, that’s nice of you to say. I was admiring your own outfit earlier. Is that La Sala?” he asked.

“I’m not sure,” Will said, “Hannibal bought it for me. Said I couldn’t keep showing up to these things in flannel and dog hair.”

“Not that that isn’t a good look for you as well,” Chilton said almost under his breath.

Will turned a bright smile towards Chilton. “You think so? That means a lot coming from you,” he purred, moving another step closer.

He leaned in, placing his lips as close as polite conversation would allow to Chilton’s ear. “You should see them on my floor, Fredrick.” He taunted.

“Excuse me,” Hannibal appeared beside them. “Will. I hate to interrupt, but it would seem we are out of Sauvignon Blanc, would you be a lamb and go fetch a few bottles from the cellar?”

Will looked slowly, as if uninterested, away from Chilton. He studied Hannibal for a moment, feeling gleeful at how utterly enraged the older man seemed to be under his cool exterior. He wondered if Chilton could see it too. With a tight smile, he excused himself from the two, making his way towards the basement door. It wasn’t until he was well into the damp, small room that he noticed he wasn’t alone.

The door shut behind him, and he turned around surprised to see Hannibal moving towards him. He was pushed against a bare, unfinished wall within seconds, lips grabbing possessively.

“And just what do you think you’re doing?” Hannibal growled.

Will grinned. “A little innocent flirtation never hurt anyone.”

“You should see them on my floor?” Hannibal repeated. Oh, so he did hear that.

Will laughed, hearing how absurd his words sounded parroted back to him. He was about to respond when he felt Hannibal’s palm pushing up his thigh, landing with force against his still-sore length. A few tantalizing rubs had the blood rushing back into formation, and Will wanted to curse himself for how easily the other man could get him so aroused.

Hannibal moved his possessive kisses to Will’s neck, swiftly working open the button and zipper to Will’s pants.

“Hannibal,” Will warned, wanting to remind him where they were, how many milling guests waited for them, but he was interrupted by a hot hand coming to hold his cock and pull firmly.

He let a soft moan fall from his lips, skin catching on fire. Hannibal surprised him still by already dropping to his knees in the dim light, and Will could only stare enraptured by that ashen hair dipping low against his belly. Hannibal wasted no time swallowing Will, pulling him in with his hands on his waist. He sucked hard and low, spit dripping from stretched lips.

Will was panting, thrusting down into Hannibal’s throat without a second thought. He felt that delicious coil returning hot from earlier, and with each thrust he got nearer to that glorious edge. He was close, canting forward and loosing himself to the tight wetness. He felt his balls tightening against his body, and so did Hannibal. Just as he was about to spill, Hannibal pulled off with another wet slurp.

“N-no, no,” Will breathed, already realizing what was happening.

“We’ve been down here too long, love. I’ll grab the bottles, you can compose yourself,” Hannibal said, rising to his feet.

“You’re a monster,” Will growled, already taking himself in hand. A few jerks let him know it wasn’t happening, his interest already pulling back.

Hannibal moved forward, and Will couldn’t keep the desperation out of his eyes, hoping Hannibal would at least palm him one or two more times. That’s all he needed.

Instead he placed a long, chaste kiss to his lips, and then fixing his hair and suit, turned to grab the wine. He was already leaving before Will could say another word.

* * *

Will sat at the piano, waiting for the last of the lingering guests to leave. He pressed a few notes into the keys, unfamiliar with any songs to play. He had to reign in his patience when Hannibal spent what some would call longer than necessary talking with Fredrick about a recent psychological article published this month, just to drain Will’s tolerance for the evening. He could tell Chilton wasn’t interested much in what he was saying, but his run-away glances towards Will the extent of the conversation made Hannibal less than willing to let him wander away back to the other man. Regardless of what Will intended, Hannibal was not going to let this annoying man interrupt his fun tonight.

When the last of the guests parted from the house, the opera house in destination, Hannibal shut the door behind them and turned his attention immediately towards Will, still seated at the mini grand in the corner, facing out. The wait staff still moved around the house, cleaning up the champagne flutes and hors d'oeuvres plates littered around the first floor of the massive house. Hannibal had a warm smile on as he made his way across plush oriental rug.

“Are you ready to get going?” he asked, watching Will’s fingers ghost over the keys.

Wil waited until Hannibal moved around the piano to sit down on the bench. As soon as he was seated, Will grabbed him by the collar and pulled him into a deep kiss. Lips already parting to make way for hot tongue, hands grabbing desperately at neck.

“If you don’t get me off right here, right now, I’m not going to another fucking Opera in my life,” Will husked, once they parted, dizzy.

“It would be rude to show up late,” Hannibal warned with zero sincerity.

“You know what else is _rude_, Hannibal?” Will growled.

Hannibal’s grin widened. “Being intimate in front of strangers working in my house?”

Will snorted. “Like you care at all about what these people think of us.” He glanced up to see one or two lingering gazes, shot down abashedly when Will’s gaze landed on them.

“I don’t, but I’d venture to guess you do.”

“Oh yeah?” Will taunted.

Hannibal took the invitation, scooting closer to him on the bench. He dropped his hand to the inside of Will’s leg, letting it rise slowly. Hannibal glanced up to see which of the servers were still in the room. There were two, one with headphones in, the other using a broom to gather some crumbs off the hardwood floor beyond the carpet. Neither took anymore notice of them, and even if they had, they probably couldn’t see beyond the piano and sheet music.

Hannibal’s quick fingers had the pants unbuttoned and unzipped quickly, and turning his hand, he dipped slow and smooth into the sheer underwear. He cupped at Will’s length, wrapping long fingers around the soft skin. He raised his other hand to play a few notes on the piano, a soft melody to distract away from his other hand. Will adjusted his seating, spreading his legs as much as the front of his open pants would let him. He didn’t care that this could be another trick from Hannibal, another pleasure cut frustratingly short. Because there was Hannibal’s warm fist pumping casually, achingly slow, his thumb brushing the wet tip. He kept Will’s cock trapped behind clothes, his fist rubbing under the fabric.

Will smothered a moan, trying desperately not to call any attention to the two of them. He couldn’t rock upward, couldn’t change his blank expression, couldn’t make any of the obscene noises getting caught in this throat. He had to sit still and inconspicuous, as strangers crossed the room, paying them no mind. He felt Hannibal loosening his grip, starting to pull away. He snapped his hand to the other man’s wrist, catching him before he could go anywhere.

“It wasn’t an idle threat,” Will warned through gritted teeth, referring to his boycotting further Opera outings.

“I was merely reaching for a handkerchief, my dear Will, so you don’t spill on your nice pants,” 

Will released his hand, letting Hannibal reach into his jacket pocket to retrieve a soft piece of folded gold fabric, clearly not meant for cleaning actual messes. Particularly not one that was soon to come flooding from Will’s aching length.

Hannibal returned to his ministrations, glancing around again to make sure they weren’t being watched. Now there was only one other in the room, the lad with the headphones in sweeping the floor, not looking up. He continued to play a soft song on the piano, his hand dipping back into his open pants and down into his underwear.

He moved his swirling fist faster now, alternating tight and loose grips. He used beads of precum to slicken the movements, and soon Will was huffing something heady, low enough only Hannibal could hear the desperation.

Hannibal leaned closer to Will, dipping to whisper, “You’re mine, Will. Only mine. I’m the only one who can do this for you.” It wasn’t so much as a demand but a statement.

Will groaned in response, only slightly annoyed that it was painfully true. That these days, even his own hand didn’t do it for him. It had to be Hannibal’s wide palm, wet mouth, sliding heat. Nothing and no one else could affect him that way. It was like Hannibal’s passion for him caught him on fire, sizzled attraction through him, lit him up inside the way no one had been able to before. He was addicted to that burning heat, that overwhelming desire to consume and be consumed.

“If we were alone I’d finish you off with my tongue,” Hannibal mused. “But for now, you’ll have to be satisfied with my hand. Are you satisfied, Will?”

Will grunted, felling that tightening coil inside him building, getting closer with each quick drag of palm over himself.

“Yes, y-yes,” He stuttered, the pleasure starting to overwhelm his senses.

“I won’t stop this time, my dear Will. I want to see you release as quietly as possible. Don’t change your face, don’t make a noise,” he purred the demand.

Will did as he told, a whine burning in his chest as hot pleasure rushed through him. He felt moans rise and crash inside him as he came heavy into Hannibal’s handkerchief. The released tension from the night washing over him, hitting him in violent bursts of boiling passion. He remained composed through it all, barely biting his lip to keep from calling out.

Hannibal hummed something pleased, carefully releasing the spent length, pulling the now damp fabric with him.

Will quickly adjusted himself, buttoning his pants and pulling up his zipper. He was panting something soft, wiping the slight gathering of sweat from his brow. His flushed skin felt sticky, his clothes tight and restricted after getting off so violently in near public. He wished everyone would leave so he could drop to his knees before Hannibal, return the favor for his own obvious hardness.

Hannibal reached for the side of his neck, turning him to pull into a gentle kiss. It grew slowly, moving from a press of lips to them parting and dipping curious tongues. Hannibal hummed something low, fingers curling in the hair at the nape of Will’s neck.

Will let his hand drift downward, groping softly at the bulge in Hannibal’s pants. He only pressed gently, letting teasing fingers graze and slide before he pulled off, meeting Hannibal’s glossy and distracted gaze.

“We’ll be late for your big show,” he said, pulling his hand away and detangling himself from Hannibal.

Hannibal felt a swell of frustration, his own aching length twitching at the loss of pressure. But Will was already standing up, adjusting his shirt collar and smoothing out any wrinkles. He looked down at him with a raised eyebrow, a slight knowing smirk, and stepped away from the bench.

Will let Hannibal have his fun during the dinner party and was already preparing his revenge for the rest of the night. 

**Author's Note:**

> Barely any plot to this one lol leave a comment if you enjoyed it!


End file.
